


Dizzy Spells

by HaddamsChasm (Damzil)



Category: Addams Family (TV 1964), Addams Family - All Media Types
Genre: AddamsFamilyXChange2020, Alcohol, Arguing, Choking, Cunnilingus, Desk Sex, Drunk Sex, Drunkenness, F/M, Foreplay, Quiet Sex, Smoking, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:09:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28278918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Damzil/pseuds/HaddamsChasm
Summary: A misunderstanding and a few spirits can go a long way.
Relationships: Gomez Addams/Morticia Addams
Comments: 3
Kudos: 19
Collections: Addams Family Holiday Exchange





	Dizzy Spells

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas Addamses! This is my prompt, prompt number nine to be exact! Sorry I couldn't make anything Christmas-y, but hopefully this will bring some cheer this Christmas! My prompt was Morticia and Gomez argue. Enjoy and Happy Holidays my uglies!

One… Two… Three… Four. Morticia Addams silently counted each and every stroke the bristles of her hairbrush made across her silken, black hair. Her icy, blue eyes stared daggers into the reflection in her vanity mirror as her wrist maneuvered in a steady, repeating pattern. Usually her husband, Gomez, would be the one assisting her in brushing out her hair for the evening, but unfortunately he was in his study, phoning his stock broker. Being one of his many favorite pastimes, it was something he took part in fairly often. Morticia recalls him prattling on about his brand new stock investment, consolidated wool, to uncle Fester, and by the looks of it, she could tell that he was quite enthusiastic about it. Naturally, she congratulated him whilst carrying on with her knitting, but she had no idea that an investment like that would take so long to discuss. Eight… Nine… Ten. Morticia closed one eye and pivoted her head, wondering whether ten strokes would be enough for now, after all, there was no need for too much preening before bed, especially when she knew she wasn’t going to be sleeping with her busybody husband tonight.  
She placed her brush down and sighed, a small circlet of moisture clinging to the mirror as she did so. Leaning her head in her palm, she impatiently tapped her red painted nails against the mahogany tabletop as thoughts of her dear Gomez began to plague her mind. Not too soon after, the jewelry box beside her opened up and a disembodied hand popped out to greet her. Morticia’s bottom lip quivered as she sighed once again.

“Oh Thing,” she whimpered, “what could Gomez be so preoccupied with at this hour?”

Thing flexed his digits in thought and then balled into a fist. Morticia stared at him with disapproving eyes as he jerked up and down, alluding to something unsavory. “Thing please, he hasn’t… indulged in ages.” The hand seemingly nodded and tapped at the sides of the box until he suddenly remembered something Gomez had told him earlier that day. Figuring he’d reach her better in morse code, he enclosed himself within the box and knocked a message onto the wooden interior.

“Celebrating. With. The. Spirits,” Morticia repeated, her eyes widening in disbelief, “he’s conducting a seance without me?!”

Getting up from her seat at the vanity, she shuffled her way down the hall, making sure not to wake Fester, Mama or the children as the sound of her breathing became more apparent as she neared the study. Her feet slid silently across the carpet until she was met with the door of Gomez’s study. It was slightly ajar and the acrid scent of cigar smoke was seeping through the crack. A few inches of the floor was bathed in a ribbon of light which made it clear that her husband was still in there doing god knows what. Huffing loudly, she entered the room without a second thought.

“Gomez, what is the meaning of this?” She questions with wide, angry eyes.

Gomez was slouched in his leather office chair, his tie undone and his blazer unbuttoned. His head was lolled over drunkenly as he pursed his lips, exhaling rings of smoke into the open air. In his right hand he held a cigar that was almost fully reduced to ash. Usually he’d smoke one cigar, get bored and pull out a new one, but by the looks of him, he didn’t seem to have a care in the world. After eyeing her husband, she flicked her eyes down to see sundry bottles, all bearing the same ingredients: henbane and hemlock. After waiting in the doorway for some time, Gomez finally raises his head to see his wife standing there.

“Querida!” He bellows, raising his arms in the air before tossing back one last highball.

Morticia watches as Gomez gets up from his seat and ambles towards her, throwing his cigar aside. “Tish, I did it Tish. I-” 

“Gomez, I am very upset with you,” Morticia scolded, crossing her arms. She did nothing, however, to stop him from snaking his arms affectionately around her shapely waist. 

Gomez instinctively drooped his head in surprise, “Why?”

“You’re up so late into the night doing Lord knows what, and I’ve yet to hear from you since this afternoon,” Gomez opened his mouth to explain himself, but she raised her hand, signaling for him to stop. “And now you’re doing a seance without me?” 

“My love, my dear, mi corazon, my everything?”

“What?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He gestures to the overturned bottles on his desk. “I just wanted to celebrate with a few spirits before bed.”

“Oh,” Morticia replied plainly before realizing the error in Thing’s words, “oh.” 

“My consolidated wool stock went up,” he exclaims, raising his finger in the air, “the hiiiighest it's ever been!” 

Gomez tightened his embrace and buried his head in Morticia’s chest, fidgeting back and forth on his heels as his wife tried to match his movements, “No matter dear, I’m just glad you’re here now.” He whispered softly, the heat of his breath making her skin tingle a bit. In the midst of the silence, the duo rocked silently in place before Morticia decided to speak up. 

“I’m so proud of you, mon bubele.” Gomez’s emerald eyes shot open but he gently shut them as the tender feeling of her hand caressing his stubbly cheek debilitated him. He wallowed in the way she raked her nails from cheek to jaw, petting him like a frail cat. Assuming he’d just tumble over his words, he grabbed hold of her left arm by the wrist and began to plant hungry kisses along it, starting from the apex of her shoulder. The black mesh on the sleeves of her nightgown teased him, revealing the likeness of her arms but not the taste of her skin. Even so, he still proceeded to sloppily trail his lips along his spouse’s loving arm, its owner gradually giving into his sudden act of affection. Of course, she was used to him doing this, he was a glutton for the French language, and may she be damned if she didn’t enjoy it every time he did so. Gomez continued until he reached the bumps of her knuckles. Disappointed, he started to kiss back up to her shoulder again. Morticia chuckled at Gomez’s sloppiness, but then again, that’s why she adored drunk Gomez. It was a rarity when it came down to it, but after being angry at him for a few minutes, it was refreshing to have him loving on her once again. Her smile grew bigger as Gomez shifted behind her to plant tender kisses across her shoulder until he was met by the softness of her hair. He hurriedly pushed it aside and wetly pecked against the nape of her neck. Morticia shivered and brought her hand up to rub circles around the fringe of his dark brown hair. Leaning back, she felt him as he lifted his head to bury his nose in her hair, the wisp of his moustache delicately stroking the shell of her ear. She gasped and reeled forward, blood rapidly rushing to her cheeks as the overwhelming feeling became too much for her to bear. 

“Aha, your weak spot, cara mia?” Gomez jested, his voice a deep baritone as he rests his head in the crux of her neck.

Morticia swallowed thickly against a dry throat, her body burning hot with arousal. Admittedly, this was another reason why she was so fond of Gomez in his drunken state. He often behaved so haphazardly when it came to certain activities, and yes, sex was a large fragment of that. She stood tall again, allowing him to kiss down the length of her right arm, her cheeks still bearing remnants of her sudden lapse of self restraint. Gomez's kisses felt vastly different now, they were certain and dripped with devious intentions. Every time his lips made contact with her skin, he left dark, wet blotches in his wake, causing her to bite down on her lip. He reached her knuckles once more and Morticia took the liberty of cupping his head within her hands. The tipsy man immediately took her hint and adjusted himself to meet her gaze, albeit unfocused. He smiled that usual half smirk he always displayed which made her core pinch excitedly. She affectionately traced her thumb along the underside of his jaw, coaxing him to come closer. He followed and moved his hands down to grasp her hips, his fingers boring deeply into her veiled flesh. The woman moaned breathlessly and found herself pinned up against the study door, her body slamming it shut in the process. 

"Gomez," she muttered, eyes wide, "be careful, you'll wake everyone."

Gomez stood with unbalance, but kept a firm grip on his partner, his glassy eyes glimmering brightly in the lighting of the room. "Caraaaa…" was all he could manage to whisper before smashing his lips against Morticia’s very own. She gasped at his sudden boldness but promptly accepted what he had to offer. His mouth was kissing hard and she tried her best to keep in time with him, for he was going at his own intoxicated leisure. Gomez pulled away briefly, their lips making an audible sound, and tilted his head. Morticia instantaneously jolted as her husband had slipped his tongue into her mouth. Raising her hands, she dug her fingertips into his broad, loose shoulders. She could taste his entire evening on his breath, the flavor of malt liquor almost entirely masking the lingering, earthy tang of nicotine. That instantly made her crave him. Before she could get her fill of it, he reeled back, resting his head on hers. 

"I'm so happy, Tish," Gomez slurred. 

"I can tell darling, why don't we move this fuss upstairs, hmm?" 

"Nonsense," he cooed, "I'd prefer to celebrate in the place where it aaaalll happened." 

Morticia’s breath hitched as her hand was met with something firm for a brief moment. Gomez mumbled under his breath and nipped lovingly at his lover’s ear lobe, his erection quite evident as he pressed it to her palm. Whimpering noisily, she lightly grazed his bulge with her fingertips whilst Gomez dragged his teeth along the underside of her ear. He traced down the pale slenderness of her throat, as his hands slithered downwards towards the swell of her buttocks. As he gripped firmly, Morticia allowed herself to be lifted off the ground, her willowy legs promptly coiling around her consort's sturdy waist. Although she was aware that he was drunk, she knew that he wouldn't drop her for anything. That thought was quickly disposed of as she was abruptly placed down onto Gomez's work desk. With a crooked grin that Morticia knew all too well, he removed his navy, pinstripe overcoat and cast it aside. Morticia jumped in surprise as Gomez slammed both his hands on either side of the wooden desk, surrounding her. His breathing was ragged and his erection was visibly straining against the fabric of his dress pants. He resembled a ravenous animal, and she would be lying if she didn't want to be fucked like one.  
Without warning, Morticia was shoved and pinned under Gomez's weight, the musk of his ardour tantalizing her nostrils. Despite the fuzziness he felt in his head, he dominated her with precision, as he always did. His pupils flicked from the azure of Morticia’s eyes to her heaving bosom. He licked his chapped lips and latched onto the skirt of her nightgown, lifting it and letting it rest on her collarbone. A shiver instantly wracked her body as her lower half was exposed to the awaiting eyes of her excited husband. The heat leeching off of his fevered flesh did the deed of warming her up, but the peaks of her nipples still stiffened against the cool, open air. With a half lidded gaze, Gomez ran his hand over the surface of Morticia's right breast, massaging it lightly. 

"M-Mon cher," she breathlessly stammered.

Rubbing and squeezing her within his palm, he bared his teeth, "Tish, you know what French does to me," Morticia's mouth hung open as Gomez took her nipple within his mouth, circling his tongue around it and suckling on it lightly. She mewled softly in response, her spine arching with each swipe of her spouse’s rough tongue. While his mouth continued on one, his fingers pinched and pulled at the other, calling forth a moan from the depth of her throat. Lifting her hand, she unknowingly tousled Gomez's brown locks. Noticing Morticia’s adorable gesture, he chuckled cutely against her bare flesh, "I appreciate the support, Cara."  
Morticia winked and slowly tightened her grip on Gomez’s hair, pulling his head back to gaze into his glazed hazel irises. He panted heavily like a dog in heat and was a bit disappointed about being taken away from what he so rightfully earned. Releasing him, she allowed her hand to wander down Gomez’s stomach. She traced her polished nails along the buttons of his collared shirt and proceeded to untuck both ends of the garment from his trousers. Gomez immediately got the idea and let the straps of his suspenders trail down his toned arms. Morticia bit her lip with excitement as her fingertips skidded along his evidently hard manhood, the loose fabric clinging tightly to its firmness.

“My my,” Morticia marveled, “you’re practically bursting at the seams.” 

With trained fingers, she began to stroke him through the cloth of his suit pants, each stroke getting rougher and rougher with every movement of her hand. Delighted, Gomez bucked his hips and buried his head in his spouse’s heaving chest, allowing her to do as she pleased. And please she did. Gripping his length, she jerked it towards her like a leash, making him twitch between her digits. He let out a muffled groan into her skin which forced a devious chuckle from Morticia’s throat. Gomez lifted his head to stare at Morticia once more, his cheeks aflame.  
Butterfly wings beat lightly against the inside of her as Gomez's hand slid absently down her flat stomach. Her center twinged deeply at the feeling, drawing a loud gasp from her rosy lips. Calloused fingers danced lightly over the lacey waistband of her black panties, beckoning him to slip them down her trembling, pallid thighs. He did so with such a lack of prowess, she could have mistaken him for a nervous teenager. Lifting her legs into the air, she assisted her drunken husband in the removal of her underwear. Once done, he raised them like a trophy, a shit-eating grin pulling at his lips. Morticia laughed as she watched them get hurled at the wall.

“You mad Castil-OUFF!” The last of her words were ripped from her lungs as her back was roughly met with the hard wood of the desk. Eyes glued to the ceiling, she allowed her legs to be sloppily wrapped around Gomez’s neck. No other words were spared as she felt the ticklish touch of bristles against her inner thigh, teasing her already quivering figure.Warm lips made contact with the softness of her skin, making her spine shudder in antici...pation. His odorous breath puffed hard against her glistening center before finally sinking his head between her legs. Morticia waited with impatience as she saw Gomez’s nose and mouth disappear behind the rising and falling of her breast. Jolting, her head instantly fell back in ecstasy, her hands innately running up and down her spread thighs. Gomez’s tongue lapped at her clit in slow, rhythmic circles, calling forth timid moans from inside Morticia’s throat. He pulled her in closer as he went in deeper, the silence of the night too risky to be broken. Morticia held in all that she could, but the feeling of her husband’s lips enveloping her most sensitive spot made each and every moan impossible to emit for the fear of waking the whole house. In their bedroom, it would be much more safe and easy given that Gomez had lined the walls with soundproof material a while back, but there in the study, unsavory sounds were much more susceptible to being heard by innocent ears.

While one hand was wrapped tightly around one of his wife’s legs, the other was desperately pawing at his straining dick. He squeezed it firmly with each swirl his tongue had made against Morticia’s wet sex. Despite his mind being fuzzy from the alcohol, he knew better than to waste his orgasms this early in the game, so for now, he’d only tempt himself. Removing his hand from below the tabletop, he let his two middle fingers prod against her entrance, his mouth still working against her clitoris. 

“May I, my dearest?” He asked between breaks for air. 

“G-Gomez, please…” 

Morticia’s pleasured response made his cock twitch with how strong she made his name sound. He wasted no more time and eased his pointer in first, earning a shrill whine from her as her eyes fluttered back in euphoria. Her inner walls clenched around his intruding digit, prompting him to insert the other one. Licking up and down her awaiting pussy, his middle finger was sucked in with its equal. Morticia’s back arched off the table as Gomez’s long fingers kneaded her G-spot in a matter of seconds. She squirmed excitedly and a ribbon of saliva dribbled down the side of her mouth. If she had been wearing lipstick, it would’ve been smeared by now. Cracking another dumb half smile, he sucked her clit into his mouth, meanwhile his fingers moved in and out of his lovedrunk spouse, making sure to curl upwards to hit Morticia’s pleasure center as he reeled back. He groaned in self-gratification which surprised him, but he couldn’t help himself. The mild pain of fingers entangled in his hair became more and more apparent with each thrust his fingers made inside of her. 

“Ugh, Tish,” he growled, the vibrations of his voice sending shivers down Morticia’s spine.

“W-What’s the problem, darling?” Morticia questioned in concern.

“I can’t take it anymore Tish,” Gomez slurred, withdrawing his fingers to unzip his pants, “I need to be inside you.” 

Morticia’s eyes widened as his manhood was now in full view, unsheathed from the cloth that swaddled it. It pointed straight at her like the muzzle of a gun and it bobbed with the hard throbbing of his heartbeat. He stared with a befuddled gaze that she adored with every fibre of her being, so she couldn’t help but accept him. All of him. “Don’t keep me waiting then,” Morticia beckoned.  
Gomez bared a thrilled smile and grasped both of Morticia’s legs in either hand. Chuckling to himself, he lifted them and pressed her knees to her chest, which she instinctively kept up until further instruction. Gomez, with his head down, flicked his eyes to his submissive who anxiously waited for him to start. He let his smile drop and puckered his lips, spitting a large drop of saliva onto her pussy before pressing the head of his cock to her seething core. Holding onto her thighs for support, he pushed himself in a few inches, basking in the warmth and pleasure of being inside his wife. Morticia’s mouth hung open in a silent moan as she felt every inch, every vein, and every throb of the man’s length enter her slick passage. He let out a low groan as he pushed in deeper until he reached the hilt, causing her to clap a hand over her mouth in unbearable pleasure. She felt so full she thought she was either going to cry or burst into flames…either way, what wonderful bliss. Without warning, Gomez began to move, starting out slowly before gradually picking up the pace. He moaned into the air, his wife’s pussy massaging his cock in the best way imaginable. Thrusting hard, the loud sound of fabric hitting bare skin became the only sound that bounced off the walls, for the two of them were too wary of their surroundings to express their pleasure the way they would like to. Gomez clenched his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut in pure ecstasy while Morticia fought hard to keep her moans at bay. 

“Bubele!” She blurted out before the man who owned that nickname let go of her leg to wrap it around her throat. Using that as leverage, he began gyrating his hips to meet Morticia’s surprised writhing. God, did those Spanish dancing lessons pay off for him. Because of this change in movement, each roll of his hips made his tip brush her G-spot, making her choke against the hand that gripped her neck. Morticia bucked her hips to get him to hit it again and, as anyone would guess, he kept on hitting it. He was practically pounding her into the desk now as the warmth of the dinner he drank made his head spin in drunken arousal. Having Gomez go down on her beforehand, Morticia was already so close to reaching her limit, but she felt she had to hold off for Gomez’s sake. “My lord Gomez, I don’t think I can handle much more,” she admitted through whimpers of need. 

“Oh querida, you can,” Gomez grunted, a hint of sobriety in his tone, “I’ll make sure of it.” Thrusting more deeply, he relocated his hand from Morticia’s throat to the tenderness of her clit, teasing it between his thumb. In an almost animalistic nature, Morticia coiled her legs around Gomez’s moving waist, repeating the same action with her arms around his neck. She pulled him close until her bare breasts were flush against his clothed chest and whispered pleasured moans into his ear. He breathed loudly as he rhythmically reeled back and slammed back in, each push of his cock forcing her closer and closer to the edge of the desk. Gomez knew very well that that wasn’t the only edge he was pushing Morticia to. Admittedly, he was quite close himself, but this felt way too good to have it end straight away. In an attempt to pull out, he felt the pressure of Morticia’s heels digging into his ass, pulling him in and caging him between her legs. He grunted as the force almost sent him over the edge. 

“Darling, please don’t stop,” Morticia begged, tears streaming her face. 

His lips formed into a tight simper and he grasped his lover by the hips, plunging himself deep inside her before thrusting in and out of her like a piston. Morticia wailed to high heaven and at that point, she didn’t give a fuck about who heard. She felt way too good to keep this to herself. Gomez, who only grunted and groaned, made it known to his wife that there was no stopping him now. The sound of fabric hitting skin got louder and louder and before long, Morticia had reached her limit. Her back arched and her legs trembled in evident passion as her orgasm surged through her like venom. Gomez felt as her insides spasmed around him, massaging him perfectly enough to send him over the edge as well. With three final thrusts, he released inside her, molten liquid filling her core. The familiar feeling of wet warmth caused Morticia to let out a strange squeak while she rode out her orgasm. What followed was the collision of bodies as Gomez collapsed in fatigue on top of his exhausted wife. The duo panted heavily in time with each other for what seemed like hours, before Gomez realized he could be crushing her

“Sorry about that, cara.” He apologized, lifting himself off of her for a brief moment.

Pulling his head into her chest, she threaded her fingers in his hair, “don’t apologize for showing me a good time.” 

“Are you proud of me, Tish?” 

“Oh,” Morticia jumped up, having forgotten why they had gotten entangled in the first place, “I am exceedingly proud of you mon cher.”

Gomez, who was too tired to lift his head, spoke into her breast and lifted her hand to place kisses upon it, “that’s French...”

“Ah, ah, ah, if you want to continue, it will be in our bedroom this time.”

Gomez nodded. “Right.”

After the both of them had caught their breaths, Gomez shakily pushed himself up and off of Morticia, who followed. Putting out his hand, he pulled her up from the top of the desk, her nightgown falling down and draping over her sweaty frame. He sunk his teeth into his lip and proceeded to check the hall for any unwanted family member.

“Ahem darling,” Morticia calls, pointing down to Gomez’s groin, “put that away first.”

“Oh yes,” He giggles, tucking himself in and zipping up his pants. “But before we go, how about a toast to my brilliance.”

Morticia rolled her eyes in annoyance, but she’d do anything to humor her husband, “why not.”

Stepping over to the pile of knocked over bottles, he picked up the one that had the most liquor and fished out two shot glasses from the desk drawer. After popping the cap, he drained the last of the contents into both glasses. Morticia smiled big and held one between her fingertips. 

“To Addams?” Gomez declares.

“To Addams.”

Following those two words, they tossed back their drinks and headed off to bed.


End file.
